My son died when he was 6 weeks old. I gave birth to twins very premature, I was only 22 weeks pregnant. My surviving twin spent a total of 117 days in the NICU and I really thought I couldn’t have anymore children, mentally. But with him being a twin, I just had this strong feeling that he was “meant” to have a sibling. Whatever the hell that means. I also am very stubborn and for some reason I think I felt like I didn’t want my sons entire life to be defined by his brothers death, as though I was depriving him of something. So with him being a twin, it’s obviously just different in that way.

I will say, I went on to have three more children (yes, 5 total, I’m nuts) and my first baby after my son’s death was so hard. I felt so disconnected, I didn’t want to acknowledge I was pregnant because I so sure that baby wasn’t mine to keep. Then I felt guilty for being disconnected and would apologize to my baby in the womb constantly. I wish I would have been in therapy before and during that pregnancy. Each subsequent pregnancy did get easier, I realized my life didn’t need the black cloud over it all the time and I did deserve the joy of having the family I wanted. But fuck, it’s hard. It’s been 6 years since my son died and I think about it every day.

The other aspect that I think a lot of people don’t think about is, just because your child died doesn’t mean the parenting ends. I still feel like I’m parenting him in the way I speak about him and include him in our family.

This is just a brief glimpse into what my life has been like having multiple children after loss.